


Fever Dream

by Silverblind



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/Silverblind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward reflects on what could have been, if only they could have changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Dream

By day he dreamt of gold and glory and blood-spattered smiles, but by night he dreamt of black-haired children and tranquil beaches where they would grow, far from cannon fire.

They were both young and wild and free, although she was tied to a creed and he to a woman who would never allow him to lay eyes on her again.

It was a dream, nothing more, but as years passed and friends vanished he found himself wishing it was not so. But he was not so cruel as to make her trade the coat and cutlasses she loved so well for a dress and earrings he knew she would rip off without a second thought.

For all the gold he had plundered and all the treasures he had stolen, he cherished nothing more than those moments in the throes of passion where he could almost believe they had a different life; a lavish, rich, easy life, as he had always wanted. Promises were whispered in the dark, but he knew it was a game to her, to see what might have been. He knew she would never want to leave.

_Black-haired children running on an English beach, happy and safe. Black-haired children with thunderous brown eyes. Black-haired children…_

And always with the sun she rose, her secret hidden away by a man's coat and a red scarf, and the moment she stepped out the door his dream would fade, replaced by the merciless sun of the Caribbean and the salt of the ocean and his burning steel in his hands. He would stand and watch her walk away from him in the streets of Nassau or Havana or Kingston, people calling her by this name he hated and wished she had never taken, this name that stood as a wall he could not scale between them, this name that guarded her like the jealous lover it was, protecting her from those who would turn her away from her path.

_Black-haired children playing in the sand. Black-haired children with the sun in their eyes. Digging up the treasures their parents risked their lives for as play. Black-haired children with pink cheeks and wide smiles. Black-haired children…_


End file.
